Backwards Motion
by Ella M. Nite
Summary: Kate Winchester never believed in the family curse. Now, she's skipping backwards through time and finding out the true story of her family's past. The story of Sam and Dean Winchester and six seasons of Supernatural told backwards.
1. The Winchester Curse

_AN: So here it is ... the newest of my fanfiction endeavors. Thank you to everyone who voted for this one. I have the next few chapters already written out, so expect regular updates! Yay! Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Please remember to leave a review at the end! ~Ella_

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><p><em><strong>Backwards Motion<strong>_

**The Winchester Curse**

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><p>The Winchester curse.<p>

Uncle Dean would say that all the time. It was sometimes said in anger, blasting past his lips like curse word, or sadness, half-broken and softly, or other times with mirth, his lips curled up in a smirk and tone light and playful. It was said in a hushed voice hunched over the battered kitchen table, and loudly with a barking laugh as he trudged through the front door covered in mud, a couple twigs in his hair and dirt caked hands wrapped around the shovel which rested against his shoulder. Her father would smile sadly, or shake his head, or glare half-heartedly at his older brother – but he never denied it. It was never said when they thought she could hear them.

The curse was somehow related to the family business and they refused to bring up that conversation in front of her.

It didn't matter that Kate Winchester was now sixteen years old and stood tall, just a couple of inches below her Uncle. Kate was convinced that when they looked at her all they saw was the six year old who would go running, brown pigtails bouncing with each step, and crying over a scraped knee. It was infuriating. She was not a little girl anymore.

In some respects, Kate was very mature for her age. She supposed it came from being left home alone for weeks at a time as Uncle Dean and her father would go off hunting ghosts, shifters, demons and all sorts of monsters that went bump in the night. A couple of years ago, after one particularly bad row between herself, Dad and Uncle Dean, they had finally relented a tiny bit. She was still forced to stay at home, but they let her help with the voluminous amounts of research.

So she became the "Research Queen" as Uncle Dean called her, and while she sometimes wished that they would wake up and realize that Kate was old enough and mature enough to handle hunting with them... Katie had to admit that she was quite good at researching. She also enjoyed it - though she would never admit it to her uncle who would tease her endlessly.

Last Christmas Dad had even bought her a label maker and new mini-filing cabinet. The living room office she had inherited when Grandpa Bobby had passed away five years ago was now perfectly organized. Everything was sorted alphabetically and indexed for easy location. After lecturing her father and uncle, she had even convinced them to file away all of their cases in chronological order and create a back-up file which was put away by creature. Kate loved her system. It had taken a full summer holiday, and Uncle Dean moaning and complaining about not understanding how they had gone wrong with her, but after it was finished, Kate knew where everything was and every time she could recover new information she felt the thrill of the discovery rush through her.

Still, as much as she loved enjoyed researching monsters and their weaknesses or information on victims, Kate's favourite times were always when her father's large silhouette would crowd the door frame, with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, arms wide open, and his brilliant smile he always saved just for her flashing across his face. She would run into his open arms and twirl her around before dropping a quick kiss onto the top of her head and then letting her go. Then Uncle Dean would saunter through the door with a smirk and sarcastic comment along the lines of '_What am I chopped liver?' _or '_Fine. Just ignore me then.'_ and Kate would hug him tightly as he laughed and he reminded her that she was his favourite niece, never mind that she was his only niece. Those moments when her heart would pound hard against her chest, trying to burst with happiness. When they returned, all the anger at being left behind, her worry about their well-being, and even her humiliation at actually getting below a ninety-percent because she had taken a stupid arts class, all of that would just melt away. In those little moments it would seem that everything in her life was perfect, as long as she had her father and Uncle Dean. Everything else in her life was small, trivial and so much easier.

How could her family be cursed when they had moments such as that?

It was a hot day in June, a couple of days before her seventeenth birthday that the Winchester Curse ripped through her life.

The day started out the same as any other. It was a clear, blue sky outside the windows, peering down into the kitchen that tired Tuesday morning. Kate was frying eggs. Uncle Dean was setting the table. Dad was putting the coffee on. They had managed to have stayed home for the past three weeks and Dad had promised they wouldn't even look for a case until after her birthday.

"So what do you want?" her Dad asked, stretching his long legs under the table and sipping his coffee slowly. Kate didn't need to ask what he meant. Every year it was the same question, always two days before her birthday and Kate knew that whatever she asked was what she would get, within reason, as her father and uncle were hopeless when it came to actually coming up with a gift idea.

Kate shrugged, and tried to avoid Uncle Dean's attempt to add more salt to the eggs. Uncle Dean had been banned from cooking eggs since he seemed to make fried salt with a side of egg instead. Having saved the eggs and putting the portions onto the three chipped plates, Kate tried to think of anything she wanted.

"Well ... I guess there's this new encyclopaedia series which ..."

"No," Uncle Dean cut her off. "No way. Sammy, we are not getting her a stupid encyclopaedia. I refuse to let you nerdify my niece. Come on Katie, wouldn't you want something like all teenagers want ... like ... alcohol. What teenager doesn't want alcohol?"

"Uncle Dean, I'm only seventeen," Kate reminded him. "And don't call me Katie."

"So? Everyone drinks underage!" Uncle Dean explained, completely ignoring half of what Kate had said. "It's a rite of passage. Hell, by the time I was your age ... wait ... I shouldn't tell you that."

"I'm sure there will still be plenty of booze in the world by the time I'm twenty-one," Kate responded. "And I hate to be the one to break this to you, but ... Dad can't nerdify me, because I'm already a nerd."

"I blame you," Uncle Dean said, sending a mock-glare at his younger brother, who was too busy chuckling to reply. Laughing, Kate hurriedly took a bite of her toast as Uncle Dean raised one grey eyebrow in her direction.

The conversation that followed was the same one they had had thousands of times. Did she want to take the bus or have Uncle Dean drive her to school? Uncle Dean would then make it very obvious that he wanted to drive her, because it would mean he could drive his favourite car that he rarely used anymore. It was old, black, dented and loud and she would be teased at school for showing up in the ancient monstrosity, but the look of joy on her uncle's face was enough for Kate to bite her tongue and send one pleading look towards her father. He would ignore it. Then her Dad would ask about her homework and Uncle Dean would make some sort of comment about studying too much and Kate would go on and on about school. She would entertain them as dishes were washed, and her school bag packed with different school-related stories: her perfect score on the last math test which made her Dad smile proudly and how Billy Reich had put a whoopee cushion on the most hated teacher's chair which made Uncle Dean roar with laughter. Finally she was standing by the door waiting for Uncle Dean to find the keys to his "baby" on top of the fridge, as her father made sure she had packed everything.

"Your agenda?"

"Yep."

"Homework?"

"Yep."

"Lunch?"

"Money for it."

"Kate ..."

"What? Dad, it's lame to actually bring a lunch."

"Fine, you don't need to pack one today, but you are tomorrow."

"Fine."

"Salt?"

"Yeah."

"Silver pocket knife?"

"Yes."

"Bracelet with anti-possession charm?"

"Yeah, though if I could ..."

"No."

"But you haven't even heard what ..."

"No."

"But ..."

"You are not getting a tattoo until you are sixty."

"I'm just trying to be practical."

"No."

"Fine ..."

"And no asking Dean for permission behind my back."

"Damnit."

"Now, you have your cell?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Now I want you to ..."

Kate never hears what her father wants her to do. Maybe it was something simple-like and mundane. Perhaps he was about to remind her that she had better floss before leaving. Years later, when Kate felt like torturing herself, she would think that perhaps it would be something profound, advice that she could cling to as her life crumbled around her.

For at that moment her uncle came bursting into the front entry way.

"What are you doing?" her Dad asks, immediately tensing.

"He's coming," Uncle Dean says, Kate is confused by the look of shared panic. What was coming?

"You need to get into the panic room," her Dad commands, his voice hard and without a single thought Kate obeyed. Running into the kitchen, Kate is mid-turn when hard, inhumanly strong hands grasp her throat and yank her backwards against a solid chest.

"I'm afraid there's no time for that," the cold voice taunts in her ear, making her shiver in revulsion.

"LET HER GO!"

Gasping for air, Kate watches as her father yells, running into the room with a sawed-off shotgun aimed at the man holding her. She can't stop the whimper which escapes her clenched lips as the hand around her throat tightens, the fingernails biting the skin. She can barely see the human figure behind her, a mop of red hair and a cold, empty, mocking smile. With pleading eyes, she silently begged for her father and uncle to hurry up and save her. This was what they did. Why were they just standing there?

"Did you really think I would not reap my revenge?" it taunts her family. "Did you think you could play amongst the angels and not get burnt? Let's see ... how about you say goodbye to your little daughter."

With one last desperate, silent plea the hand tightened and Kate knew no more.

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><p><em>AN: There we are ... the first chapter is posted. I hope you've enjoyed it. The next chapter should be up in a few days. Please review - it'll make me ridiculously happy. Seriously, it will be ridiculous. Even if you don't ... well ... I just hope you enjoyed it. ~ Ella<em>


	2. Enter the Void

_AN: Hello all. Thank you to all the reviewers. Fun little fact about this chapter ... it was originally the first chapter but then I felt like it would be more important to establish the "future" and the family relations before this all happened. Hope you like, it's a bit of a different style then what I am used to. Enjoy! ~Ella_

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><p><strong>Entering the Void<strong>

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><p>Time and space seemed to race, swirl and press against her flesh. There was no stopping this ... whatever this was. It was strong and everlasting. There was no peace, no hope for her. Time was nonexistent but ever present in this abyss. Her eyelids were open and not open, her chocolate brown eyes both seeing and not seeing. There was no way of knowing how long she had been like this. Hung in-between now and then, not quite here or there, it seemed to last forever. Conscious thought completely useless against the onslaught of the portal and knowledge that no one could save her. To think ... she had never believed in the family curse...<p>

The first flash was ghostly. The figures playing in front of her like a movie. She tried to reach out, but her body seemed to be frozen, nothing worked. The sound coming in waves, in and out as if there is bad reception, and she supposes that should not be unusual. Her brain is mucky and nothing seemed to be working right, nothing makes sense here – so why shouldn't this memory be flickering in front of her, black and white like an old movie.

"_What are you wearing?_" she hears it whisper part her. In a distant part of her mind which still functions she remembers this question. It was her uncle the morning all of this started.

"_It's called a dress_," she hears herself answer. Trying to look down is useless, she can only stare ahead, but her fingers are able to twitch against the fabric she had forgotten she was wearing. Had she always been in the dress? It seemed a lifetime ago since this memory ... or had it been this morning?

The voices continue, she hears he father _"Homework done?"_ and the reception goes fuzzy, but she knows what's about to happen. Even as the smell of coffee stings her nostrils which have forgotten there was such thing as a scent. It's an echo she is sure of it. An empty ghost of a memory from that morning and the fact her father had always made the coffee so strong it would stink up the entire kitchen. The aroma, deep and rich as it embedded itself into every crevice of the room, so that even hours later it would smell like coffee had just been made.

_What are you doing ... he's coming ... you need to get into the panic room ... no time ... LET HER GO!_

She hears her father yell. Suddenly the memory is more vivid, the images in front of her three dimensional as she finds herself standing in the kitchen. Everything is still black and white and she has no control over her body, but she is there. Her father screaming at the man who held her in a grip that was too strong to be human. She needs to warn them. She knows that the man is about to do, even as she sees herself crying and silently pleading with her father and uncle to save her with big, scared eyes. She can hear the whimper and knows it is no use. There is no hope. No saving her.

_Did you really think I would not reap my revenge? _It taunts her family. _Did you think you could play amongst the angels and not get burnt? Let's see, how about you say goodbye to your little daughter. _

Suddenly the image is gone. The memory is gone and she is left with the pressing and whirling of nothing against her as she keeps falling. She feels something wet against her cheek and realizes she is crying. For a long time there is nothing.

Then it starts to happen.

Voices ... memories...

_Well I guess a catapult isn't too lame_.

Her uncle's voice drifted across her conscious, but there was no image. She remembered the afternoon though, as her uncle had finally cracked and agreed to help with her yearly science fair project. She had been thirteen at the time and her father had sent a conspiratorial wink her way.

_Hey come here. It's okay to be sad. Shhh, it's okay_...

The calming voice of her father drifted to her. She remembered the hug ... she was ten now and crying over the loss of her Grandfather.

_Were you really that stupid. She's nine, Sam. She doesn't need firearm training ... I'm her father, if I think she should be able to clean weapons then that is my decision. _

Her father and uncle are arguing. If she could frown she would, because this is not her memory. She had been told to go to her room; her father looking more threatening then she had ever seen him as he had been glaring at her uncle.

The voices seemed to be coming at her faster. Making little sense and leaving before she had a chance to place the memory.

_There's our little soccer champion!_

_I'll have a burger. _

_Kate don't climb so high, otherwise you'll get stuck and die of starvation. _

_There are things in the night, but you never need to worry about that, because me and your uncle, we'll make sure nothing happens to you. _

_Pass the salt. _

_When are we leaving?_

_Merry Christmas Kate. _

_I swear to god if she doesn't get out of that Why stage soon Sam I am going to shoot something. _

_Where's my little girl, there she is. _

_Sam you are so tall you are going to scar her for life if you keep lifting her up that high. _

Suddenly there is an image. How long has it been since she has seen anything. It's just been voices, slowly building in volume and frequency. There she was standing in the living room of the house she had grown up in. Things were different though. There were more books tossed around and random pieces of paper that cluttered the various surfaces. On the walls there were none of the family pictures which existed from her time, none of her finger paintings from her childhood and none of her soccer trophies were on any bookcase.

Her father stood to one side, his face smoothed out and his hair a solid brown and long, instead of the shorter grey-speckled hair she was used to. In his arms was a small baby girl, not even two years old. Curiously she wondered if that was her, the baby girl with the pink dress and mop of brown hair. Beside him was her uncle, who also seemed so much younger than she ever remembered him. His gun-grey hair was in the same short cut, but now it was a just a solid lighter-brown colour. Her gaze widened as she saw her grandfather walk into the room. Tears rising in her eyes, she wanted nothing more than to reach forward and hug the man. Everything from his grey-beard to his cap resurrected a strange sense of grief over his death. She had not even realized how much she had missed the man.

She barely had time to marvel how this memory seemed to be so much sharper than the last one, full of colour and vivid detail.

"Well congratulations, she's yours," her Grandfather said drily, shoving a paper at her father. Her father's and uncle's face was ridiculously funny. It looked like they had been punched in the groin. Though marring her humour was confusion. Her father had never told her anything about her mother, and she had assumed it had always been the two of them. Now it was looking like they hadn't even known she existed until she was two. There was no time to think about it though. The memory was slipping from her, fading away into the abyss. Leaving her alone in the nothingness, as she tried to desperately to cling to it, to break from the curse she was bound by.

_I know your thinking what I am Dean. She could be mine, I mean, it seems like I was pretty indiscriminate with who I slept with back then. _

_It's a simple case, no problem._

_Your turn to drive._

_Are you sure you're feeling okay. _

_It's called using your brain. _

The voices made no sense anymore. She did not remember these. It was beyond her memory. Maybe it had nothing to do with her memories? The swirl and push and constant squeezing pressure around her ... she knew she was in a portal. She had determined that long ago. She had always been smart, the Research Queen as her uncle had called her, and it wasn't hard to deduce that she must be falling through time. The rushing around her, the voices, all echoes of a time she had never been a part of.

_How could you Cas? _

Who was Cas? She wondered, but there was no image with the hurt voice of her uncle.

_They're all Jefferson Starships. _

She supposed her father was using one of the many silly code words her uncle would develop, but she was not familiar with that one.

_At least we're talking. _

When had they not been talking?

_Whatever you do, don't scratch the wall. _

She did not even know who was saying that. For the first time, the voice was completely new to her. Though the power behind it caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up, especially at the scream that reverberated around her head following on its tail.

_You're not my brother. _

_It's his soul. It's gone._

It was another voice she didn't know. Whose soul? She wondered, trying desperately to hear more. How could a soul be gone?

The voices were getting stronger, so loud they made her ears hurt and head pound, sometimes overlapping itself. And flashes ... there would flashes of images which kept appearing in front of her in a mockery of a slideshow. Her uncle beating her father in the face. Hunting creatures. Chopping off the head of a vampire. Her father and uncle hugging. She didn't understand. None of this made any sense. It was impossible. The flashes and voices were loud and pressing against her, flashing in front of her, unstoppable and invasive. She tried to close her eyes, but the images and sounds kept appearing, kept slashing at her. Crying out, everything suddenly went blissfully silent.

She was laying face down. It was solid, the floor cold and pressing back against her. The sensation was odd, for so long she had been suspended in the portal. Cracking one eye open, she first saw the dust. It was grey and covered the floorboard her cheek was pressed against. Breathing in the dust seemed to choke her, as it flew up her nostrils and stung her nasal passage.

With a pitiful groan she flipped over onto her stomach.

"Don't move," her uncle's voice said. Glancing at him, she suddenly sat up as fast as her sore muscles would allow her. He was looking at her. This young version of her uncle was actually looking at her. Not looking past her as the shadows and echoes had as they flashed past her in the tunnel. This young mimicry of her uncle was actually looking straight at her ... with a gun pointing in her direction. Trying to calm her breathing, her eyes swept the room. There were two men she didn't know, one with a trench coat and another in a suit and what looked like an ancient iPhone held in one hand. Her grandfather sat behind his desk and there he was. Her father ... her young, tall, floppy haired father was looking straight at her. Scrambling to her feet she barely registered the shout of warning her uncle gave, or the tensing of everyone in the room.

"Can you see me?" She croaked, her wide, moist eyes never leaving her fathers. She felt her legs shake, unused to being used, and her vision swam in front of her causing everything to go in and out of focus.

"What?" her father asked, slowly standing and edging toward her.

"Sam, stay back from her," her uncle commanded. She didn't know why, she was their family after all. Why should her father stay away from her?

"Can you see me?" she asked again, as her body waivered, almost keeling over.

"Whoa there," her father steadied her, his big hand softly supporting her shoulder. Staring down where his hand touched her, she felt something break. The echoes had always gone past her, she had not felt a touch or anything tactile since that dreary morning that the man had come and sent her into the portal. This was real. The young man in front of her might not be the middle aged father she was used to, but this Sam Winchester was more than she could have hoped for after spending so long in the whirl of space and time.

Reaching out, she dug her fist into his shirt as she buried her head in his chest. Letting her tears to run, she trembled with exhaustion. Glancing tearfully up into his face, her delirious mind felt the need to explain.

"I'm sorry," she said, tears running down her cheeks. "I tried to make it into the panic room. I tried. I tried. He was too fast. Just appeared. I'm sorry. I tried."

"Whoa, slow down," Sam said, sending a nervous glance at the people around the room and they all looked as uncomfortable as he felt. Some teenage girl was bawling in his arms and he had no idea what to do. The girl didn't seem to be physically injured as far he could see. In a plain cotton-white dress which was a bit odd for this early in the spring, shoulder length brown hair and pink flip-flops, there were no scraps, gashes, bruises or any other sign of physical trauma. Still, he was practically holding her up as she cried into his shirt. "Okay, easy there, um, can you tell who you are?"

"You don't know me?" she sounded so fragile, looking up at him with wide brown eyes and trembling lips. Feeling the girl almost faint, Sam wrapped a supporting arm around the back, as Dean ran over to help him.

"Ugh, should I?" Sam asked, trying to think if he had ever seen this girl before, but he was sure he hadn't.

"I'm ..." she seemed to have trouble staying conscious, making Sam worry that perhaps there was some internal damage they would need to worry about. Right before she lost conscious completely she was able to barely mutter, "Kate ... Kate Winchester. I'm your daughter."

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><p><em>AN: Another chapter posted. I've recently found a beta for this little fanfic of mine, so I will probably be posting revised editions of these chapters later ... just a little FYI for you all. Other then that, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. The next one will be up in a couple of days. Please remember to review! ~Ella<em>


	3. Trench Coat Angels

_AN: Hello everyone. Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it! ~Ella_

_UPDATE: Some small changes made Aug. 9th. Cheers._

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><p><strong>Trench Coat Angels<strong>

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><p>Kate Winchester was on an extremely uncomfortable cot. She knew this immediately thanks to the blinding pain where the springs were digging into her shoulder blades. Snapping her eyes open, she immediately recognized the fan above her. With its iron star-shaped vent causing a devil's trap shadow to appear on the ground, Kate wondered why she was asleep down in the panic room instead of her bedroom upstairs.<p>

Then she remembered. The portal and the abyss and the flashes and screams all came back to her. Sitting up quickly on the cot, Kate was yanked back down as she found her right hand was handcuffed on the iron bed frame.

"So, you're awake."

It was her uncle's voice, but when her eyes finally landed on the man sitting on the straight-backed wood chair, Kate was disappointed to see that it was still the young version of her uncle. It had not been a, as she had fleetingly hoped, a dream.

"I'm in the past aren't I?" She asked cautiously, not sure what else to say. "You look young."

Apparently Uncle Dean was not expecting that, because his eyebrows furrowed as they did when he was suspicious of something. The last time she had seen that was last April Fool's day when she and her father had set up multiple prank booby traps throughout the house. Though, this time there was also a hint of animosity in the look that Kate had never seen in her entire life. She imagined it was something the creatures her family hunted would see right before they died.

"Who are you?" Uncle Dean asked.

"Didn't I already tell you?" Kate thought back, she remembered trying to say her name before losing conscious. Maybe she hadn't been able to get all the words out?

"You appeared, unconscious, out of nowhere," Dean said unsympathetically. "So I ask, you answer. Got it?"

Not trusting herself to speak, Kate just nodded. This young version of her uncle looked ... scary. As if he was capable of hurting her without a second of remorse. Shaking, Kate tried to hold herself together. It would be okay, her Uncle Dean would never hurt her, but ... this wasn't her Uncle Dean. This was the young Dean Winchester. A hunter in his prime, not the part-time hunter Kate was used to.

"Now, what are you?" Dean asked.

"Human, I'm just human," Kate promised.

"Right, because humans usually appear out of nowhere," Dean commented, a sarcastic smirk gracing his face. Kate suddenly noticed the silver blade he held in his hand, and fought the shudders which shook her body. She hadn't seen him this angry ever - even after the time when she was little and tried to paint little flower's onto his beloved car.

"I can explain that," she said desperately. "There was this man and he put me in this ... portal type thing, and now I'm in the past."

"A portal type thing?" It didn't sound as if Dean was convinced. "What did this man look like?"

"I don't know ... a man. He was tall ... had red hair ..."

"You saying a ginger popped you into a time traveling portal?" Dean tried to clarify, his doubt ringing clear with every word.

"I know it sounds crazy," Kate said. "But it's true. I'm from the year twenty-twenty-seven. My name is Kate Winchester and you're my uncle."

Dean stared at her, and Kate met his gaze straight on, trying to convey her sincerity. This was no lie, and she needed him to believe her, because if he did maybe there was hope that she would be able to go home. There was the screech of metal on metal as the panic room door was pushed open.

"Dean!"

There he was, her younger father, in his typical plaid shirt and tall frame encompassing the doorway. Even though she knew this was not her father, not the man who had driven eight hours straight to make it to her dance recital or the man who had bandaged all her scraps or helped with her homework, it was still a version of her father and she felt her heart jump into her throat at the sight of him.

"I thought you agreed not to talk to her until someone else was here." He was busy talking to his brother, but Kate was taking in his appearance. He was more muscled then she remembered his hair longer, less lines around his eyes and mouth. He seemed so ... youthful compared to the father she had last heard yelling her name.

"Right, because I could call for you after you locked me in the panic room," Dean quipped harshly.

"Dad, you look good," she said softly, causing both men to turn and stare at her. Kate was already looking past them to the trench coat wearing man. "Who are you?"

The man just tilted his head and stared at her with unblinking eyes.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, edging a bit closer to her.

"You're not my father yet are you?" Kate asked. "I mean, you don't have a daughter yet."

"You're my daughter?" A mix of shock and suspicion clouded his voice, causing it to thicken and his hands to drop uncertainly to his sides.

"Yes, I was just telling Uncle Dean. I'm from twenty-twenty-seven. I don't know when I am, but I swear I'm your daughter. You need to believe me, please," Kate begged.

"Cas, is this possible?" Dean asked the trench coat wearing man.

"Cas?" Kate's head swivelled back at the man standing just outside the panic room. _Cas how could you? _The voices came back; she remembered them as she was spinning through time. This man would do something in the future, something which would make her uncle sound broken as he muttered a pitiful plea. She felt a small thrill of fear go down her spine. Maybe she was misunderstanding, maybe it was nothing.

"Cas, is she from the future?" Dean demanded when the man took too long staring at her.

"She is certainly not from this time, but I cannot ascertain which way she has travelled," Cas finally said, his unnerving blue eyes never leaving her.

"Human?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"Okay," Sam said, absently nodding his head. "Okay, I'm going to get you out of those handcuffs and you can go upstairs with Cas and get some food. Okay?"

"I'll go with them," Dean said, starting to head for the door, but Sam stopped him with one giant hand. "Dude, really? You're just going to keep me locked in here?"

"Hey, I wasn't the one about to say yes to Michael," Sam yelled back.

"Come Kate," Cas said from the doorway, beckoning her to leave the two arguing brothers alone.

"I'm handcuffed," Kate said, indicating where her right hand was still attached to the bed frame.

"I've undone them," Cas told her, his deep voice never betraying any emotion. Kate was about to protest, when she noticed that her cuffs were indeed hanging open. Standing up, Kate rubbed her wrist before shooting a terrified look at Cas.

"What are you?" She asked.

"I'm an angel of the lord," Cas responded automatically. "Now come."

Kate shook her head though, stumbling behind the cot to give some room between her and the supernatural being.

"Kate?" Sam called for her. "It's okay you can trust Cas."

"But you told me never to trust anything supernatural?" Kate said blindly. "And the man who sent me here – he said something about angels."

"Probably because angels are dicks, but Cas is okay," Dean said, both boys postponing their own fight until after they had dealt with the unknown girl from the future.

"Are you sure Uncle Dean?" Kate asked, her wide eyes quickly darting between her uncle and the unmoving angel in the doorway.

"Okay, how about we just go with Dean," he said, wincing at the sound of uncle. "And yeah, we're sure."

Kate nodded, starting to make her way towards the angel when suddenly she felt a blinding pain. It felt as if someone had crushed her foot. Crying out, she barely processed the cheap carpet she now stood on, or the fact that her left foot was squished into a garbage pail. She flicked her foot, causing the pail to fly off her foot and thud against the wall across from her. The pain had obviously made her delirious, because she could have sworn that the wall across from her wasn't the rusted iron but rather a ... motel room?

But she was definitely in the panic room now and she was definitely alone. "Uncle De, uh, I mean, Dean? Dean? Dad? Sam?"

Glancing around the room, nothing seemed to have changed. No garbage pail, no motel room, the bed was still shoved against the curved wall, the desk and chair still in the same position. Had the angel done something?

Calling their names, she started to slip out of the panic room when she realized that something was caught around her foot. Bending down she stared at something she had never seen before, some sort of necklace with on a leather chain and weird face-type amulet of some sort. A bang from upstairs made Kate jump. Slipping the necklace over her neck and tucking it safely beneath the neckline of her dress, Kate made her way up the rickety stairs that led out of the basement and into the main part of the house. She could hear voices coming from the hallway, and so she crept as silently as she could, her flip flops striking more loudly than she liked against the hardwood floors. She peered into the hallway and gasped at the sight of piled bodies. Her father and a policewoman stood with their backs to her, and her grandfather and uncle ... no, Dean he wanted her to call him, were in the end closet facing her.

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><p>"Sam behind you," Dean shouted as he saw the young girl appear at the end of the hallway. He cursed inside his head, he had thought they had gotten the last of the zombie son of bitches, but there another one stood, looking all innocent in a white dress and loose hair. When Dean found whatever bastard did this, turning those poor dead people into rabid killers, he was going to kill it.<p>

His brother spun around, his shotgun at the ready, but then hesitated. Figured, even after all the crap his baby brother did, he would still hesitate to shoot a zombie that looked so innocent.

"Why did you leave me in the panic room?" The girl asked. "And where did the trench coat angel, Cas, where did he go? Why are there bodies? What happened?"

Well, that was unexpected. Usually zombies weren't so chatty, but more interested in ripping out throats and the like. He shot an uneasy glance at Bobby, who raised an eyebrow in agreed confusion.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, his gun still pointed at the mysterious girl.

"I just told you, don't you remember?" The girl said. "We were down in the panic room and then you just disappeared; you, Uncle Dean, and that angel – Cas."

"Uncle Dean?" Dean spluttered, pointing at himself. "Me?"

"Yeah, oh right, you want me to just call you Dean, sorry," Kate apologized. "Listen, we just had this conversation, not even five minutes ago ... unless ... unless I'm still falling through time."

"Listen ..." Sam paused, allowing Kate to once again supply her name before continuing, "Right, Kate, listen I don't know who you think we are but..."

"You're Sam Winchester, that's Dean Winchester and Bobby Singer and ... Mrs. Jodi Mills?" Kate said in surprise, a big smile suddenly breaking out onto her face. The smile was like an itch on the back of Dean's mind, as if he had seen that full blown smile before, but he quickly shook it off as the Sheriff Mills looked at the new person with trepidation. Dean had to admit that the Sheriff was handling the entire zombie-supernatural experience extremely well, especially considering her son had been one of them.

"Do I know you?" The Sheriff asked.

"No, no, not yet." Kate said cryptically. "I'll eventually be best friends with your niece."

"I don't have a niece."

"Oh, right, well, is Troy born yet?" the girl asked.

"How do you know my nephew?" The Sheriff asked, and Dean noticed Kate blush slightly at the question.

"Oh, you know, best friends older brother and all that," she muttered, fidgeting with the seam of her dress.

"But Troy's an infant, he was only born a month ago," the Sheriff muttered.

"Okay, I would talk more, but if I'm right, and I usually am, then I don't have very long here. I need your help," Kate said as fast as she could. "I'm stuck in a ..."

Dean never found out what this odd girl was stuck in though, because in that second she blinked out of existence.

Blinking, Dean wondered why Sam had his gun pointed down the hallway when just a second ago Dean swore he had not been facing that way. If he felt as if he was forgetting something, he quickly shoved it into the back of his mind, because there were a pile of bodies that needed to be buried ... again.

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><p>"Goddamnit, son of a bitch!" Kate cursed using her uncle's favourite expressions. The hallway was suddenly doused in dark, the daylight switched off and the pile of bodies had disappeared, as had her family and friends. She had thought, when she had landed on that cold, hard floor and slid into unconsciousness in her father's arms that she had stopped falling. Now it seemed that the echoes were just more intense. She was being dragged downstream and there were no branches to grab, no way to fight against the undertow.<p>

Giving up, she heard her stomach growl and went to grab some food out of the fridge. Who knew when she would reappear next and it felt like she hadn't had anything to eat in decades. Freezing midway of eating the yogurt she had found in the fridge, she wondered if she had been stuck in the portal for all that time. It had been so hard to focus on time. Licking her spoon clean she checked her reflection. Nope, still the same brown eyes and hair, same nose, same blackheads and there were no extra wrinkles. She gave a sigh of relief silently marvelling the fact that she seemed to be a frozen at sixteen.

"This is going to suck," she told her deformed reflection, before shoving another spoonful of yogurt into her mouth.

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><p><em>AN: Yay! Chapter number three! I wasn't sure what the title should be, but then decided that this is her first time meeting Cas and that deserved to be the title. Hope you enjoyed the set-up because this is how it'll be formatted from now on. And cookies for those that can name the episodes. Thank you to all the reviewers. Until next time! ~Ella<em>


	4. Apocawhat?

_So yes - I am still alive. Long story I will not get into. Anyways, hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Like always, please review. ~Ella_

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><p><strong>Apoca-WHAT?<strong>

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><p>The next few stops, Kate decided to play detective. Sam and Dean Winchester never really talked about their past. Kate knew that her Grandpa Winchester had been killed by a demon. She also knew that Grandpa Bobby's wife had also been killed due to some sort of supernatural accident which was never mentioned, not even after he had passed away. Kate knew her father and uncle had been raised hunting and travelling, living in motels, never having a stable home. Besides that though, with these angels ... and who was this Michael that Dean was thinking of saying yes to? And saying yes to what? Kate Winchester was starting to think that there might be more to her family history than she had ever realised.<p>

During the next time she appeared somewhere, she was able to avoid the people in the house. Sneaking around was hard around hunters, but Kate had lots of practice. She knew this house better than anyone. Admittedly some of the secret trapdoors and booby traps that she knew weren't built yet, but she was able to sneak around for a few days, trying to gather information. Unfortunately, all she found out was that her Grandpa Bobby seemed to be researching angels and revelation. Maybe her family had gone through a religious phase?

Not that it mattered, because Kate was facing a whole new slew of problems. She kept switching location. According to the clocks in the house, sometimes she would barely go a minute backwards but find herself out in the yard, or in the panic room and once uncomfortably in Grandpa Bobby's room as he slept. This was turning into all kinds of awkward and causing Kate's head to hurt. How was she supposed to fix this? How was she supposed to save herself if she couldn't even manage to stay in one spot long enough to do more than eat a sandwich or use the washroom?

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><p>She was no longer at home. She didn't know where she was, but the familiar auto yard and living room were gone. Instead she was in a ... dinner. A diner which was not empty in the slightest, in fact, Kate was extremely awkward to notice that everyone was staring at her. A bunch of men in black suits and sunglasses, an old, creepy man in a wheelchair, her uncle being held by the men on either side of him, and Cas stuffing his face with food at her feet. Not sure what the hell was going on here, Kate tried to back up, but her exits were blocked by the men in black. Looking back down on the ground she saw the demon-blade that her father and uncle had kept hidden in the safe. She remembered her father explaining it to her a few years ago, once he had started to open up a bit more about hunting.<p>

"Oops, sorry, wrong stop," she tried to say cheerfully, ignoring the deep, uneasy pang of fear that was striking against her heart.

"Who are you? Another friend of the pathetic Winchesters?" The old man asked.

"Excuse me?" She said, forgetting her panic, unable to help the small surge of anger sparking through her. Her family were heroes, and she wasn't about to stand around and let some stuck up old geezer talk down to them in that way. "Winchester's aren't pathetic; we sure as hell can kick your sorry ass."

"You're not a Winchester," the old man said, his eyes narrowing. "That's impossible."

"Yeah well," Kate said, buying time as she edged toward the knife, "obviously you don't know the Winchester's very well or you would know that we specialize in the impossible and improbable. So now that we've established that, who the hell are you?"

She needed him to keep talking, if she could just reach the knife than her chances of survival would be a lot better. Not great, but as good as they could be in a roomful of demons. Kate suddenly wished she had been a bit more interested or insistent in learning how to hunt.

"I'm Famine," the old man said, wheezing.

"Ouch," Kate said, wincing sarcastically and trying to mimic the dry laugh-in-the-face of danger persona she had seen her uncle Dean do on occasion. "That name sucks. Can I just call you Sue instead?"

"I am one of the four horsemen, the bringers of the apocalypse," the old man seemed to be getting worked up now. "I'll watch as the world eats and starves its way into oblivion."

"Okay, hate to burst your bubble, but I'm from twenty-twenty-seven and the world is just dandy – there's no such thing as an apocalypse," Kate said, finally standing over the knife. "See, I'm Kate Winchester, Sam Winchester's daughter, and unless you let go of my uncle there, I am going to kill you."

Famine's eyes widened as he looked her over. Kate did not like the way he looked at her. His manic gleam was extremely off putting, and the demon's seemed to agree as they shifted uncertainly. Until then, Kate had been able to avoid Dean's gaze, but now his unbelieving eyes seemed to be boring into hers.

"Well little girl, you've traveled far, far away from home haven't you?" Famine sneered, his grey, wrinkled lips turning up at the edges. "Lucifer would want to meet you. What an interesting fate you have."

"Lucifer isn't real," Kate said, scoffing at the delusional demon. "There is no such thing as an apocalypse or fate and I sure as hell am not a little girl, I'm sixteen."

"Oh, ho, Dean why don't you tell your future niece the truth. No apocalypse? Tisk, tisk, what lies have you been telling this precious little girl?" Famine sneered. Could this demon be telling the truth? But how could an entire apocalypse come and go and no one knows it even happened? How could her family fight in it and keep her in the dark? Or is this what the man who had sent her flying backwards through time had been talking about?

"Listen, she's obviously crazy," Dean gasped, sending Kate a warning glance to keep her mouth shut. "I don't have a niece and Sammy hardly gets laid enough to become a dad – let alone have a sixteen year old. Just let her go."

"I can feel it," Famine said, breathing in deeply. "This girl is certainly a Winchester."

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><p>Kate was never so thankful to be whisked back in time then she was in that moment. Away from the creepy Famine man and the diner full of demons, and back to the house of her childhood. Kate sighed and tried to give herself a minute to think. She was sitting in the freezing cold, on hard metal from some busted antique of a car (it looked like it was from the nineteen-nineties at the earliest) and she had never felt so alone. In many ways, this was worst then when she had been caught in the portal and unable to communicate to anyone or anything.<p>

She should go inside, her dress was thin and perfect for the late June weather she had dressed for that fateful morning, but this was obviously winter and snow was piled to the side of the yard and the gravel under her flip flops were frozen solid. She should get out of the cold ... but what was the use? She would just disappear soon anyways.

Leaning back and looking at the stars through the haze of her breath in the cold night air, Kate tried to piece it together. She needed to be logical. There was a man, probably an angel because from what she had been able to gather over the past days, weeks, months of skipping backwards an angel was the only things capable of traveling through time. Though ... Kate wasn't sure if what was happening to her counted as traveling, it wasn't as if there was a set destination, and she didn't seem to be slowing down. She was more like a globe trotter but through time, a time trotter ... that sounded so wrong in her head that Kate snickered slightly even as she realized she was now indoors and on a comfy couch. Her snicker became a laugh, loud and completely uncontrollable as tears started to poor down her cheeks.

"Who the hell are you?"

She didn't need to turn around and see who was talking.

"I'm Kate Winchester," she said, turning around and letting her tears fall freely. She finally cracked she decided, as she stood crying and sniffling, a complete mess of emotions in the middle of her late-Grandfather's living room.

"Winchester? You saying that cause it's true or are you being cute?"

"No, I'm ... it doesn't matter. No one can save me. I can't save myself." Letting out a humourless laugh, Kate just laid back on the couch.

"Well, that's just dandy. Now why don't you go and have your pity-party off my property before I shoot you a new whole," Bobby threatened, levelling his gun at Kate. "Why don't you go home?"

"But I am home," Kate said softly, her tears finally slowing to a light trickle. "I grew up in this house. I know every nook and cranny, every dip in the floor ... but some things aren't here anymore. I mean, there for example, right beside the fireplace, there should be some permanent marker drawing of you, dad and Uncle Dean that I drew when I was little. You were so mad when you saw it; you threatened to shove me into a nest of vampires. But I was never scared; you're such a big softie ... all gruff exterior shadowing the sweetest grandfather a girl could ask for. You passed away when I was ten."

"Who are you?" Bobby asked slowly, wheeling a bit closer to the girl.

"Why are you in a wheelchair?" Kate asked. She was feeling emotionally exhausted from her mini-breakdown. "You aren't in the future. I never knew you had been. I'm starting to feel like no one told me anything about anything. Was Famine telling the truth? Is there an apocalypse happening?"

"Famine? You mean the horseman Famine?" Bobby asked, his gruff voice betraying the hint of fear and trepidation.

"Is there an apocalypse happening right now?"

Best way to get an answer from Bobby was a direct question. Kate remembered that. That was how she had found out that no one actually knew who her mother was. Her father had danced around the question, saying how loved she was, and that he was always there for her ... but he was always mysteriously tight lipped as to who her mother was. At six or seven, she had climbed up onto her Grandpa Bobby's lap, pretending to read from the book in front of the two of them, but it was handwritten and cursive, the loops making little sense to her. She had asked then, directly, who her mother was, and Bobby had answered stiffly and with a great sigh that he didn't know ... no one did.

"Yes." Bobby's gun had never lowered, not through the whole exchange.

"I'm guessing that if I tried to hug you, you would shoot me, wouldn't you?" Kate asked with a slight smile.

"Yep."

"Okay ... I'll probably leave soon anyways. Just ... just know I love you, okay?" Kate said. "I never got the chance to say that before ... I just needed you to know that."

"Who the hell are you?" Bobby asked, eyeing her as if Kate was insane, and perhaps she was. She was sitting across from her Grandfather, a man who had passed away when she was ten, and suddenly Kate felt like crying again.

"I'm Sam Winchester's daughter from the future," she said with quivering smile. "In less than five years, the extra room you currently use as a room to just dump random stuff in will be my room. You told me the biggest fight Dad and Uncle Dean got in was over which colour to paint the room. Uncle Dean thought pink was too girly and Dad thought Uncle Dean was trying to make me depressed when he wanted army green on my walls. You're the one that finally told them to shut it and painted it blue. Though I'm told Uncle Dean put up a clown border just to freak Dad out."

Laughing Kate looked up towards the doorway. Bobby was gone, wheelchair and all. She had slipped away again ... she was talking to empty air. A pull deep in her gut wanted to go after Grandpa Bobby, or find her younger father and uncle, to hold them close and just stop falling. Kate was tired of being alone. She couldn't cry anymore and she couldn't go after them. Instead, she turned her back to the door; it was no use chasing after ghosts. She needed to get home.

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><p><em>AN: Also ... I made a small adjustment to Chapter Three, so for future chapter's it might be a bit confusing if you don't go back and reread. Thanks for the continued support. I love hearing from readers so please don't hesitate to review, or drop me a line however you feel like! Hope everyone is having a great summer. ~Ella <em>


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